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Samurai's Spicy January Writings
Content on this page is © Samurai 2020, all rights reserved. DISCLAIMER: There is some mild language on this page. Day One: Dance with the Devil The moon was high in the night sky, and he knew it was time. He rose from bed and took his companion sword from under his pillow, leaving his wife where she lay beside him, blissfully unaware of the events about to take place. Stepping through the moonlit kitchen, his feet made the floorboards creak desperately, as though they pleaded him not to venture out into the night. If his wife was awake, if she knew, she would be pleading him to stay too. Oh, but Sylvia... It is time. He slipped on his cloak, a garment as crimson as blood, and stole out into the night, the cold of midnight sneering at him as he left the warmth of his house. The wind whispered around him, caressing him with its frigid, clammy hands, and the forest glowered at him, its bare trees foreboding and unwelcoming. But it was time. "Come, Sirius," he whispered to his loyal black dog, and the beast followed, her footsteps full of power. But even Sirius seemed unsure, and while she remained at his side as they walked the path along the edge of the forest, she radiated apprehension. She kept her head low and her ears back, listening to the night. "I'm nervous too," Masaki said, keeping his hand on his swords, "but we don't have a choice." He looked up at the moon and added, "The time has come." They continued towards the sea, the forest glaring at them the whole way, and the closer they got to the glittering water, the rockier the path became. Masaki stepped carefully, and when he finally walked onto the sand, something changed in the ground. It had begun to shake. Sirius whined, her tail between her legs, and Masaki ran - he didn't want to be anywhere NEAR those giant rocks if they fell. Behind them, at the end of the path, the ground split in two, and the chasm followed them, ripping through the earth. His mind went into a panic. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN-'' The waves grabbed at their feet, and they could run no more. The quaking ground rattled the beach, and the chasm only came closer...closer...closer... Then it stopped, and the shaking stopped as well. The beach - and the entire world - was thrown into an eerie silence, and all that was left was the wind and the shadows of night. And then a figure rose out of the chasm in the sand. It was a being of darkness, composed of nothing but the emptiest of shadows, and it had two eyes that blazed like white flames. Those eyes were fixed on Masaki and Sirius, and the creature seemed to smile, its cloak billowing around it in the wind. "Hello, my little samurai," it said in a hollow, ethereal voice. "I'm pleased you could make it." Masaki fought to calm his mind and spirit, screaming at the fear and panic to LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE! Vanish and let him be a valiant warrior! Disappear and let him face this creature with nothing but courage! Go away and let him vanquish this beast! "Ah," the creature said. "Fear. I can sense it... That is all that lives within you now, little Masaki. Nothing but fear. And I thought you could be the one to defeat me..." It chuckled and took a step towards him, the sands swirling around it. "I was wrong about you. There is nothing to fear from a samurai..." There was! There was! There had to be! He couldn't let this creature take over his village, his home! He couldn't let it threaten his wife and unborn child! He couldn't let it... He wouldn't let it... Sirius lifted her head and growled deeply in her throat, the display of ferocity taking Masaki by surprise. For a fleeting moment, she pressed her head against him, as though to grant him some of her canine fierceness, and in that moment, her loyalty to him burned as strong as fire. ''You are not facing it alone. Masaki looked at the creature for a long moment, his dog at his side, and a storm raged inside him. Afraid. Afraid. I'm afraid. So afraid. But with Sirius at his side, there wasn't anything to fear, was there? If they fought, they fought together. If they died, they died together. He unsheathed his sword and moved towards the creature, his steps timed with Sirius's, both of their footfalls sending courage into the earth. It was time to dance with the devil. Day Two: Man's Best Friend It was a bright, happy morning, a morning full of birdsong and bright colors – the ethereal fires of dawn were just beginning to fade into a clear blue sky, and sun shown down on the brilliant flowers. It smiled at the leafy green vegetables and the ripe berries in my garden, and we smiled back at it from where we sat on our porch. “Not every day you see a sunrise like that,” I said, my arm around Zeus. He barked once in response, as if to agree, and we watched the birds flit from tree to tree, chirping as they flashed across the garden. Zeus scrutinized them, but the excitement he’d displayed in his younger days made no appearance. However, his tail wagged a little, and I knew he would love going in the field later. Later? To hell with it, why not now? I ruffled his golden pelt and stood up – I was still surprised that my bones didn’t creak – and Zeus got up too. His tail was wagging more, and we stepped off the porch, making our way down the path. He wasn’t on a leash – I never had him on a leash, not unless we were in the big city – but he stayed beside me, never once needing to be told to heel. He took in all the sights and smells of our yard and garden, and after we passed through the gate, there was even more to take in. I loved it all – the endless golden grass, the snowy mountains that waved to us from the horizon, the emerald forests on either side of us, the lake at the meadow’s heart. I’d seen it for twenty years, but that didn’t make any difference – it was still beautiful, all of it, and it was the perfect place to walk side by side with my best friend. We came to the lake, which lay at the bottom of one of the rolling hills, and you bet we swam together, Zeus and me. We were there for a good two hours, and we would’ve stayed longer if I hadn’t needed something to eat. “Come on, Zeus,” I said from the bank, pulling on my shirt. He came barreling out of the water with the speed of a dog half his age, and he jumped on me. I laughed, and he licked my face, his tail threatening to fly off. Then we set off towards the mountains and the forest they safeguarded in their foothills, the gentle breeze caressing us as we walked. When we got there, a spectacular tree awaited us, its branches glittering with silver and gold, diamond and platinum, and, most wonderful of all, the heavenly fruit. It didn’t have a name, not one that I knew of, but it was the best-tasting fruit I’d ever had, and I never got tired of it. I picked two fruits from the tree and gave one to Zeus – dogs could eat the stuff, as any creature could – and we sat on the grass and watched the day go by from under that tree. Little clouds drifted across the sky, birds flew around in the forest, and the angels soared above us. Heaven was beautiful, but what made it beautiful was having a dog by my side. Day Three: The Tree of Life There was thunder, wind, and rain. There was lightning, hail, and fire. The streets rang with the bells of firetrucks, the sound dwarfed by the roar of the furious sky, and it seemed that every moment, a new building was burning. The lightning was merciless, tearing down from the heavens to rip away dwelling after dwelling, shop after shop, and it wasn’t stopping any time soon. The rain sneered at the city as it evaded putting out any of the fires, and the hail barreled out of the clouds, clattering to the ground like rocks falling off a mountain. This was Smoking Mirror being merciful. He closed his fist tighter around his staff, watching the city burn from the cliff above, glaring from the shadows. He’d warned that foolish band of mortals not to steal from his forest, and several times at that. Coming in and playing on the rocks by the stream? He was fine with that, as long as they stayed far away from the forest’s heart. Coming in and taking fruit from the Tree of Life? Don’t think so! As another fire ignited, he doubted that this was enough punishment. The Tree of Life’s fruit was sacred beyond anything the mortals could comprehend, and while he was sure whatever the children had taken was now destroyed, it would be devastating if the fruit fell into the wrong hands. He was going to talk to Arborvitae about moving his damn tree. As though summoned by the very thought, the forest god appeared beside him, his eyes widening at all the destruction. “Please be careful around my trees,” he said, a few loose leaves falling off his shoulders. “The Tree of Life cannot stay here,” Smoking Mirror growled. “Five mortals came and took fruit from it.” “They didn’t know any better,” Arbor said. “It looks like any other tree.” “Really? Other trees glow like that? Have golden fruit like that? Grant immortality and incomprehensible power if their fruit is consumed?” “Look,” Arbor said, “we can’t keep it in the Gardens or any plane of the Afterlife. Things would unravel very quickly, and I mean that very literally. To keep the balance of power in this universe, we have to keep the Tree somewhere in the mortal world. That’s how it’s always worked.” “Maybe don’t put it so close to a town,” Smoking Mirror growled, “a town full of curious mortals.” Arbor didn’t reply, and while Smoking Mirror was certainly angry, he knew Arbor, and Arbor wasn’t one to do something stupid like this. He had a reason for putting the Tree here, and a very good one at that, though Smoking Mirror wanted to hear it and if it wasn’t good, someone was getting booted off this cliff. “I put it here because it wasn’t safe in the Gilded Fields,” Arbor replied. “I thought I had it well-hidden, but a man came across it and if I hadn’t been watching, he might’ve taken a fruit. Luckily, I was able to take the tree away before he got too close…” He looked out over the burning city and sighed. “Even the most remote places in the world aren’t safe for the Tree. Mortals are more curious and explorative than ever – there isn’t a corner of their world they won’t investigate.” “What do we do?” Smoking Mirror asked. “Keep moving the Tree?” “We could guard it,” Arbor said, “but even if we took turns, the world would fall into disarray…” He was right. The gods had to watch over the world, all of it, and listen to prayers and help mortals and punish them when necessary. They could not guard the Tree, no matter how much danger it was in – it wasn’t their place to. It wasn’t even Arbor’s place – they had gotten lucky that he was in the area when the man had come by. But someone had to guard the Tree while they attended to their duties. Someone had to ensure its safety and protection from those with ill intent, and it seemed their only option was…an option Smoking Mirror didn’t particularly like. They would have to ask Nakoa. The first guardian of the Underworld. Day Four: True Beauty He looked out over the plains, the golden grass rippling in the wind like peaceful ocean waves, the sparse trees rich with summer leaves. The sun was just beginning to rise, slowly pouring its fire onto the mountains, and the sky was streaked with its colors. Vibrant pinks and lively oranges decorated the heavens, staining the clouds with empyrean paint, and while it was a sight he had seen many times, it was a sight no less beautiful. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the smell of fresh grass and morning dew washing over him. The air was clear and everything smelled of a new dawn, a new day, and while nothing about yesterday could change, the canvas was blank for today. He could decide what to paint. Behind his closed eyes, visions of battles long past raged, but he didn’t tense. He remained as calm as water, as composed as a silent sea, and let the past live in the past. It couldn’t reach him in the present, not if he didn’t let it. He had moved on, continued down the path, leaving pain and grief and sorrow behind. The blood had been shed, but it didn’t wash around him like a hellish crimson sea of guilt anymore. The tears had fallen, but they didn’t drown him anymore. He had kept walking. The visions faded into blackness, and he felt free. He opened his eyes and watched the grass dance and the trees gently sway in the wind. The sun continued to climb, and the sky grew ever bluer, ever clearer, ever freer. Birds sang, and it was the first time he’d listened to their song. It was a song of peace, a song of calm, a song of beauty, and he’d never thought to appreciate it before. But now, everything in this world was beautiful – he could see it now – and he loved the singing of the birds and the whispering of the wind. He rested his hand on his swords and looked at the forest behind him – it was a breathtaking sight with its jade trees and mystical plant life, almost enchanting to behold. Even after all these years of living in it, he had never noticed how beautiful it was, but he noticed it now. In times of war, it was easy to forget the little things, and the little things were what reminded him that the world wasn’t all backstabbing and bloodshed. It wasn’t all evil and destruction. The world was about beauty and goodness too. The world was about green forests, awe-inspiring mountains, cascading waterfalls, singing birds, and open skies. But those things didn’t mean anything without the real beauty in the world: the marvels it had in store for the heart to behold. He thought of his friends and family, all those he held dear. He thought of his brothers and sisters he fought beside in battle. He thought about every bond he’d had, everyone who’d brought a smile to his face. They were the true beauty in this world, the true marvels, far beyond anything any forest or mountain or sky could be. They were the light that fought the darkness, the good that balanced out the evil, and they were what mattered. And he wasn’t going to take them for granted anymore. He took in the beauty of his surroundings one last time before stepping into his ship and taking off, leaving the golden plains behind. Home was his destination, a home hidden deep within the enormous forest, and when he got there, he was going to tell them all he loved them. All of them. Because he wouldn’t be free from his past without them. Because the world would look so bleak and hopeless without them. Because they made it all worth fighting for. Day Five: Take It From Me It was all so overwhelming, and he didn’t know how much more he could take. Everything was happening too fast. Way too fast. Every day had been the same eternal drag into nothing until now – now it was a rapid slide into the hell that was adulthood, and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for any of this. And he had no idea what he wanted to do – no idea at all. They said that it was okay not to have a plan, that no one had it all figured out, but then the same people demanded to know where he wanted to go to college, what he planned to do as a career, what he was going to name his firstborn child, when he planned on taking out his Social Security. Maybe not so much the last two, but the first two he definitely heard a lot, and it was really stressing him out because he didn’t know! He didn’t know anything! And they never took that for an answer! It felt like everyone else had their entire life planned out, everything from their first day of college all the way to what headstone they wanted. Everyone else had a plan, a rock-solid plan, and here he was without so much as a rough sketch of what he wanted to do. He. Didn’t. Know. He just wanted everything to slow down, just for a second, so he could stop and take a deep breath and think about everything. But that wasn’t how the world worked, and time would just keep going on and on until adulthood came, until college came, until the time to choose a career came… It was like a tsunami hitting him. He wasn’t ready. He wanted to be ready. He wanted to have a plan. He wanted to know what he wanted to do, who he wanted to be, where he wanted to go. But he didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know! And what was your course of action when you didn’t know? What steps did you take when you didn’t have a plan? What road did you take when you didn’t know the way? You take the road less travelled, the writing in the notebook said, appearing in red letters across a crisp new page. That’s what you always do, Rusty. Life is an adventure, so why follow everyone else’s footsteps? Carve your own path. Sardonyx’s answer couldn’t have come at a better time. But now there was another question, and a much different one – why had he suddenly spoken? He’d been silent for so long… I had…other matters to attend to, I’m afraid, came the response, scrawled across the page in spidery handwriting. But I’m here now, and I couldn’t help but overhear what you were thinking all this time, as it was all very loud… No one has it all figured out, Rusty. People just pretend they do. The unseen hand paused and then continued writing. Take it from someone who’s been around a couple thousand years. I’ve seen a thing or two, and I’ve never seen anyone who had a solid plan from birth till death. There will always be times of uncertainty, and that’s the adventure in life. That’s the fun. That’s the living. Don’t look at it as not knowing – look at it as a time of wild, wonderful freedom to do whatever you want in this world. Take it from me. Rusty sat back and looked at the words on the page, taking in everything Sardonyx had just told him. He wasn’t ready, and that was okay. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, and that was okay. He didn’t have anything figured out, and that was okay. The unknown was an adventure… Mortals will have you worrying, Sardonyx wrote. Don’t listen to them. Take it one step at a time, or dive into it all at once. It’s your life. Live it how you want. And you don’t need a plan. Take it from me. Day Six: A Stop at the Tavern It was time for a drink. Akira entered the tavern, finally leaving the pouring rain, and rung out his hair on the rug. The rug was already soaked, so it didn’t matter that the entirety of the Atlas Ocean had just rained onto it. The door slowly closed behind him until it at last shut out the storm, though not before a growl of thunder rattled the tavern. No one seemed to notice, and they continued to talk amiably among themselves, drinking their beer and eating their…whatever that South Moontasian dish was. Some sort of squirrel? Rabbit? Akira wasn’t sure, but it admittedly smelled pretty good. The place was relatively busy, but not in a way that intimidated him. Taverns were one of the few places he felt comfortable, and it only helped that he didn’t get any stares. That’s right. Nothing to see here. Just a boy passing through… It wasn’t like he was wanted for MURDER or anything… Which he hadn’t committed… And here… We… Went… Again… He forced the anxiety and guilt and other complicated emotions away, though it was no easy feat and they threatened to burst through the wall he’d put up. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself again that he was at a tavern and went up to the counter. It was a friendly place to eat and drink. A friendly place… There were no hostile faces… No one here was looking for one of the most wanted men on Samurath… It was fine… “What can I getcha?” someone asked, and Akira nearly jumped through the ceiling. “Um,” he said shakily, trying to remember how to talk, “some…some sake would be good.” “You look a little young for sake, sweetheart,” the server said. Akira didn’t know how to reply – in most taverns, no one asked questions – but he didn’t need to. The server smiled and said: “I’ll get you some apple juice and a cookie. Kids eat free.” Oh. Free was good. He didn’t exactly LIKE not getting the sake he’d been looking forward to after all that travelling, but he wasn’t going to say no to free sustenance. This was one of the few times it paid to look so much younger – most of the time, being mistaken for a child was a huge inconvenience because it meant no one took him seriously. He’d gotten quite a lot of that at– “Here you go,” the server said, handing him a tall glass of apple juice and a large cookie. “Enjoy.” “Thanks,” Akira managed to say five seconds too late, and he awkwardly sipped the apple juice, half-wishing it was sake. After a few minutes, someone sat next to him, as the other bar stools had begun to fill up. Akira stayed as far away as he could while still remaining in his seat, though this proved more difficult when someone in a black cloak sat on his other side. Great. “Hey,” the newcomer said in a hoarse voice, sliding a few dragoncoins to the server and accepting a drink. “Thought you might come here.” Akira nearly spilled his apple juice. Jaguar? In a tavern? “For your information, this is chocolate milk,” Jaguar said, indicating the glass. “I don’t drink. Anyway…” He glanced around at the Defenders sitting near them and said telepathically: Bad news. A sip of chocolate milk, then: The Ancients are right outside. Day Seven: The Notebook and the Pen You know me. I’m the boy who sits in the back of the room and never talks to anybody, the boy who sits with a notebook and a pen and lives in silence. I’m the boy no one wants to sit next to ‘cause he’s “weird” because he doesn’t fit in with the crowd, ‘cause he doesn’t care about any of the shit they all live for. All the “cool” music, all the “cool” expensive clothes they’re wearing, all the shit they like that they think is so cool but really isn’t. They’re all the same, they got no sense of individuality, and I’m “weird” because I got one. Because I’m not the same as the rest of them. Yeah, you know me. I got no friends, and I don’t need ‘em. What I got is this notebook and this pen, and this notebook, this pen, they let me into a whole different world. A world that’s better, nicer, sweeter, a world full of excitement, a world that isn’t full of them and their uniform stupidity and unoriginality. And it’s not just one world – I got lots of ‘em. No friends, but I got worlds, and I can disappear into whichever one I want. I can go anywhere I can imagine, and it’s all because of this notebook and this pen. That’s what I live for. That’s why I don’t care that I’m not the same as them. That’s why I don’t want to be. That’s why I want to be no one else BUT the boy who sits by himself in the back of the room, the boy you know, because that boy can be anything. That boy can be a warrior, he can be a wizard, he can be a king. He can be anything you can imagine, and if you’re like the crowd and you can’t imagine, then he can be so much more. You know me. The popular crowd can go suck one. I don’t care about them. I don’t care that they think I’m “weird” or “unpopular” or whatever. I don’t care about anything but my notebook and my pen that can take me wherever I want to go, make me whatever, whoever, I want to be. That’s all I need – just the notebook and the pen. I don’t need their approval. I don’t need to be like them. I don’t need friends. I don’t need them. I need my worlds. I got my worlds. I’m happy. And so I’m gonna keep being that boy who sits in the back of the room with his notebook and pen, the boy who never talks to anybody, the boy who nobody wants to sit next to. ‘Cause that boy doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what you think. He’s gonna keep on being him, and there’s nothing you can do about it, and he loves that. He loves being who he is, the boy with the notebook and the pen. No matter what you say, he’s never going to change. I’m never going to change. That’s how this works, and that’s how this works because I say so. You know me. Day Eight: Everything I don’t like how familiar these feelings are. I’ve been in love before, and he seemed perfect at first, perfect in every way possible. He had it all: looks, charisma, charm, everything. The fact that he was rich – a samurai lord, in fact – only helped. Maybe my father would’ve finally approved of me if he knew I was married to a man of great power and wealth; part of me still wanted that approval, even though my father was long dead. Part of me didn’t care, and all of me wanted this charismatic samurai lord who had picked me right back up when I’d finally crumbled. He was my world, he was my everything, he was what I lived for, and I loved him so much, and then… Everything changed. And it wasn’t a good kind of change. The years of manipulation slammed me in the face, and I realized who he really was, what he really was, and that he’d been using me the entire time. He was in it for two things: a free assassin to kill whoever he asked her to and having someone to control. And every day, he picked away at my fragile confidence. No one’s ever going to love you, Natsu… No one but me… You belong to me… You’re no one. No one without me… He never valued me for who I was. He just wanted to control me, and for years, I put up with it without even realizing it was happening, much less knowing that there was more than this. I never knew that I could be valued, cared about, and truly loved, because I’ve never experienced that in my life. The only men who’ve ever valued me in the slightest are Luka and Alyosha, and we’re friends, but… Koga is more than that. He understands what I’ve been through because he’s felt great pain too. Unlike me, he’s been loved, but he’s known hopelessness, unwantedness, and he’s been an outcast just like me. He’s lifted me up when no one else could, and he’s always been there, always, from the very moment we met. Where was Luka? Where was Alyosha? Nowhere in sight. Koga saved my life that day. Koga cared about me when no one else did. Koga was there when I had Jaguar. Koga was there when I had nightmares or cried or just had a rough day. Koga repaired the damage that was done, just by being there, and he’s done so much for me… He’s a good friend, a very good friend, and I know that love is nothing but a trap, because that’s all that samurai lord led me into… But this time, I know it’s real love. This time, I know there isn’t a trap I’m being led into, because I know who Koga is, and I know I love him. This time I’m sure. But what if I’m wrong, what if this is all a mistake, what if… My heart doesn’t know anything. I shouldn’t listen to it. But isn’t it what told me I wasn’t happy when I was with the samurai lord? Isn’t my heart the reason I found the courage to run away? Isn’t my heart the reason I was able to start again? Maybe I should listen to what it has to say, and it’s saying the same thing my four-year-old’s been saying. Marry Koga. Please marry Koga. Jaguar’s been begging me to marry Koga for almost a year now; he loves him so much and wants him to be his dad and doesn’t understand why we haven’t just tied the knot already. I have a feeling he’s been nagging Koga too, but I can’t be certain. But… I want to give in. I want to listen to what he’s saying, to what every instinct I have is telling me. But I’m hesitant to fall in love again, even though I’m already up to my eyeballs in it, and deep down, it’s not because of the samurai lord that I’m hesitant. It’s because I don’t think I deserve it. Any of it. Happiness? A best friend? Being truly loved and cared for? I don’t deserve that. I’m no one spectacular, and the samurai lord said it himself: I’m no one. I’m worthless. I don’t deserve to be loved, because what reason is there to love me? “I can think of lots,” Jaguar says, climbing onto my lap. “Lots of reasons Koga loves you. He thinks you’re smart and clever and brave and strong and funny. And…” He yanks a lock of my hair in emphasis. “He thinks you’re really pretty too. He loves you lots.” No one’s ever called me pretty. No one’s complimented me on anything, and no one’s ever loved anything about me. Until Koga… “You deserve to be happy, Mommy,” Jaguar says, hugging my neck. “And you’re the best.” I can’t read minds like he can, but I know exactly what he’s thinking: that I should marry Koga. That I deserve Koga. That I deserve to be loved. You’re worthless, the samurai lord’s voice echoes. You’re nothing. No one’s ever going to love you… The door opens before the thoughts I’ve heard for so long can sink in, and Koga enters the room, carrying an armful of fruits he gathered from the trees outside. He dumps them on the counter haphazardly, desperately trying to keep them from rolling onto the floor, and I can’t help but smile. “Stop moving!” he says to the fruits. “Stop! Stop! There.” He turns to me and smiles, saying, “I want to try cooking something with these.” “No,” I say quickly, rising from the chair. “You do not cook. We’ve established this.” “You can’t either,” he says. “We’ve established this.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not as bad as you. Remember the chicken?” He raises an eyebrow too, even higher. “Remember the cookies?” “Don’t even go there,” I say, and I laugh at the face he makes at me. We’re closer now – a lot closer. I didn’t even notice we were moving towards each other, but here we are, close enough for an embrace. I’m still holding Jaguar, and he reaches over to yank on Koga’s hair. Koga smiles again, and it’s a smile full of love and care and warmth, everything I was missing before I met him. You’re nothing, the voice persisted. Nothing… The longer I looked at Koga, the more empowered I felt, and the surer I was that the samurai lord was wrong. I wasn’t nothing – to Koga, I was everything, and he was everything to me, and because of that, I could finally, finally be everything to me. Day Nine: Snowfall I look out the window, and the whole world seems peaceful, blanketed in pure white snow. More of it falls from the sky, coming down slowly, gently, serenely, calming the land and all its calamities. The sky is grey, covered with smooth clouds that look like fine silk, and a gentle wind whispers against the glass of the window. It all looks so calm. I turn away from the window, drawing the curtain across it, and sigh deeply, looking into the embers of the small fire that crackles in the fireplace. It warms the little house, protecting my family from the prying cold of winter, but when I look at it, I don't see a protector. I see a killer. The fire that killed my brothers was the god of fires, a massive, titanic inferno that could come from nowhere else but the bowels of hell. It had ravaged the battlefield, scorching its path of destruction through the forest and choking the lakes and rivers with soot and cinders. It showed no mercy for any creature, and my brothers were no exception. We were not brothers by blood, but they were more family to me than anyone else had ever been. We had grown up together, trained together, fought together. I never believed in what we were fighting for, but they made it worth the tears and the blood and the pain. I never cared about our king or queen, but I did care about my brothers, and in every battle, that was who I was really risking my life for. They meant everything to me, and the fire ripped them away. Nothing could extinguish that fire - even the mightiest of seas would have dried right up, defeated by its flames and hellish heat. It roared smoke into the heavens, staining the sky black and making the world smell of the devil's breath. It laughed when it killed my brothers. That laugh haunts me to this day, and it's all I can hear when the small fire in the fireplace crackles. I look away from it and leave the room, and away from the fireplace, the house is silent. My family is still sound asleep, for it is early on a weekend - they will not be rising any time soon. I remember when I could sleep like that, so peacefully, so serenely, like falling snow... Those days are long gone. I blame the fire. I come to the front door, and I open it with a soft creak that pierces the house's tranquil silence like a cruel spear. It closes behind me, leaving me out in the snow, and the flakes settle gently onto my shoulders. The winter day caresses me, whispers to me, and it welcomes me into the snowfall. It is cold. Very cold. The longer I'm out here, the colder I become, and not just in a physical sense. I can feel the snow numbing me, frigidly calming me, tearing away all feeling and grief with icy fingers. The fear of the fire is gone. The hatred for it is gone. The grief for my brothers is gone. All that remains is the cold and the snow that continues to fall. Day Ten: An Angelic Farewell We were angels when we walked away that day. Finally, after all these years, we were leaving that prison behind, breaking out of the chains that had bound us to that cruel mountainside for so long. We were abandoning that poison, that venom, that acid that had eaten away at us for such a long time. It was gone, and nothing could hurt us anymore. Finally, finally, our wings were free, and this time, they would stay free. We were angels then, and we walked away from it all. Nah, we didn't walk. We flew. You and I, soaring through the heavens on our new, beautiful, free wings, darting through the clouds and riding on the wind. I remember how wonderful and clear and free that sky was, that endless blue sky, and I remember you in it. You were wonderful too. Were. And what changed, my love? What ever changed about you? What's different now? Did the poison from our past return to infect you? You haven't been the same for a long time. I thought we walked away from all this. I thought we left the chains behind. I thought the poison was gone. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe all this time, the poison has been you, and maybe I'm the only one who gets to be an angel, the only one who gets to soar freely in the sky. But I don't want to be an angel without you. I want to fly with you, and only you, and I can't bear the thought of taking to the sky on my own. I can't bear the thought of flying without you by my side. But if you're the poison... I don't have a choice. We were angels then. We really were, and I cherish the memory of that - I really do. Most of all, I cherish the memory of you, the memory of you before you were like this, before you became like the poison. I wish you would go back to that. But until you do, I have no choice but to walk away again, and this time, I'm alone. And for that reason, I will walk, not fly, and while I still have my wings, they are not fit for flying unless you're here. We were angels when we walked away that day. I'm a mortal as I walk away today. ----- Some time later, I realize that while leaving you behind hurts, now the poison is truly gone; perhaps now I will truly know freedom. Perhaps the air will become clearer, the skies bluer, the heavens brighter, and perhaps the world will become something I can love, even without you in it. Perhaps this can still be a life worth living, a path worth walking, even without you by my side. Perhaps I can learn to fly on my own. I unfurl my wings, white as snow and as bright as day, and look up at the empty sky. There are no clouds. There is no moon. There are no stars. But it does have one thing - freedom, and that's the very thing I've been searching for all this time. Now I can finally have it. I bid you farewell, my love. Perhaps one day you can join me in this beautiful, free sky. Day Eleven: A Reflection On the surface of the puddle, there is a reflection. I'm not sure who or what it's a reflection of. I guess it's supposed to be me, but the longer I look at it, the less of me I see - then again, I'm not sure what "me" looks like. Is this a reflection of an angel or a demon, a god or a devil, someone good or someone wicked? I don't know. But the divide isn't so simple - the world isn't made of clear-cut morals like in fairy tales. Everyone's got some mix of good and bad in them, though the ratio varies from man to man. So the man in this reflection could be more good than bad or more bad than good, but either way, he's neither entirely good nor entirely bad. I'd still like to know how much good and bad I've got. The sky cries a few tears, disturbing the reflection in the puddle, and the man's face is lost in the ripples. When it settles again, I can see his scarred face once more, each mark a reminder of a battle long past. That battle's the reason I question my morals. ----- All I could hear were cannons, thundering like godly footsteps, spitting fire and hell across the black sky. Blazing arrows arched over the wall, threatening to scorch my men and I, but we stood our ground, even as the wall trembled with cannon fire. I wasn't going to let them take my castle! "Lord-" "Shut up!" I hissed. "I'm not going back inside." The next cannon blast practically shattered the wall, and the ground shook violently beneath my feet. But I was unfazed, and I looked challengingly up at the sky, full of arrows and death and doom, and realized just how much I wanted to be on the other side of that wall, tearing into enemy flesh. If they dared to venture into my land, kill my people, and try to overthrow me, they were going to pay the price, and I couldn't make them pay that price if I stayed within the confines of the castle walls. Ignoring my adviser's pleas, I made for the sealed gates, my men loyally following. We moved like valiant tigers, like courageous lions, our feet falling quickly and strongly onto the rain-soaked ground. The enemy was going to pay for their heinous attacks! "Seal the gate behind us," I shouted to the frail guard who stood there, and he nodded feverishly, placing his hand on the lever to raise the gate. It clattered into the heavens, and we rushed through, yelling like beasts, swords raised and hungry for dishonorable blood. Category:Content (Samurai) Category:Stories Category:Spicy January